Listen To The Wind
by Black Hawk
Summary: He'd always be her wild frontier.
1. I Prologue: The Legends Of Leaves

Disclaimer: I do not own_ Stargate Atlantis _nor its original characters. I do not own the song "Listen To The Wind" nor "Lullaby." They are the property of their owners, and I am making no money off of this.

**_Author's Note:_** I am back after a year-long leave of absence (though this is my first venture into _Atlantis_!) and while I've been away from the fanfiction world I have been developing my craft as an original fiction writer. I've spent the last school year studying Old English (which is an entirely different language from Modern English for those who don't know - the language of the Tolkien's Rohan!) and Latin, among other things. I also managed to make some small progress towards getting published!

So as it stands, I've been developing my style and would **_love _**any constructive criticism you can give, so feel free to gab away!

Also, I've slaved over a site to house this story, and if you wish to read this with both the music and pictures to go along with the experience, then please visit (usual http world wide web tag that this site won't let me post!) angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl/ListenToTheWind.html without the space in-between "angelfire" and of course. Please do visit - I wrote this story with the intention of it being read there (as an encompassing reading experience!) and I highly recommend it!

And I want to say a huge thank you to my little sister, who dutifully smacked me repeatedly for writing this story, and who was always there to listen to my writing and to give me encouagement. _**Thank you**, Alex_!

Now enough from me - please enjoy!

** I. Prologue: The Legends Of Leaves**

She was confused, like all of us, when he died. Lucky for me, I'd faced death as a leader before, and I knew a little more about the motions of loss and the feelings of guilt. Not that it made it any easier to bear.

He died in battle, like all of us knew he'd want, but it was still such a waste. The first few weeks after a death like that are always trying. You question things you didn't used to think twice about.

Teyla took it pretty hard at first. I was worried about her – she had dark circles under her eyes and I never saw her eat. I'd try and talk to her but she'd push me away. But after a while something changed, and she began to smile again. I'd catch her with a wistful look on her face when we'd visit someplace wild. Trailing her fingers over grass, staring up at the canopy of leaves, cocking her head at a fire, and gazing at mountains. Just gazing, as if she were waiting for something.

I'll admit it, I was pretty confused. But she seemed like she was moving on – she seemed to find her balance again, so I let it alone.

One day when I caught her with that wistful look, watching a spider build it's web, I asked her what she was doing.

"Just listening."

I listened, too, but I couldn't hear anything. "To...?"

She gave me a funny look, like she was a priest and I'd just asked what a church was for while standing in one. "A song, Colonel Sheppard. A song in the leaves."

I can be deep when I want to. Really, I can. But she turned away from me without further explanation and I knew I just didn't get it. I gave her shoulder a squeeze then went to check on Smith, Ronon's replacement. She was a good kid, kinda like the Appalachian version of Ford, but boy did we miss Ronon when we were up against the Wraith. That guy was unstoppable, like a tornado or a hurricane when he wanted to be

I think now I know what it was Teyla heard that day, but I'll never be sure. Only she'll know, because I never asked. And I can't tell you the end of this story, either, because I don't know how it ends. Maybe I never will.

But you know what? I'm okay with that. It just adds to their greatness in my mind – to their quiet legend. It keeps the mystery and the story alive, and we all can wonder together. And it will just keep on going, like the wind. As it should.

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	2. II A Whisper, A Kiss In A Dream

**II. A Whisper, A Kiss In A Dream **

Teyla clenched her jaw, her gaze on the snow-covered mountains rising like hoary shrines to the tree-less gods who dwelled in high places. Yet she did not ponder their chiseled gray, or their stained crags. She saw nothing of them, for in her mind was the face of a weeping child, small fists clamped to her mother's skirts.

Hours before, she had smiled at the little girl, remembering the children in her own village upon sight of her twin pigtails and the way the sunlight shone midnight on her raven hair. The young one had smiled back as juice from a fruit stained her chin while she took a bite, making Teyla laugh. A few hours after that she'd seen the girl again, clinging to her mother, in the frantic scramble for shelter as Wraith darts screamed overhead.

She and her teammates had done all that they could to attempt to defend the village, but many were taken. She had wandered the streets in the aftermath, aiding survivors. Ronon was at her side and paused to help a shopkeeper raise what was left of his stall from the dust.

It was Teyla who saw her first, for both males had their backs turned as they leaned the lumber against the side of a nearby structure. The little girl had been crushed underneath – the victim of her own panicked species. Her tear-trails had dried as filthy stains, and her lips were slightly parted, mimicking peace. If not for the dark mash on the side of her head and the flies that already began to hover, she could have been asleep.

She waited now near the jumper while Sheppard and McKay made promises to the village leaders that more people from Atlantis would return to offer what aid they could. Empty promises, void of reassurance. They could not stop the Wraith from coming, and they could not defeat them. There was no end to the fear, the darkness, the anger, and the waste.

The little girl's face was before her again, her almond-shaped eyes dancing as she smiled back at the pretty lady, her chubby cheeks kissing the fruit's flesh. Such wonder, such joy, such pleasure in the little delights of a juicy treat. Such a bright light now gone out.

Her shoulder companion was ever silent, statuesque, like a stony guardian of the monoliths in the distance. She eyed him out of the corner of her eye and felt her lip twitch, sneer-like. His expression was passive, at ease, even, his jade eyes drinking in the mountains before him. His peace burned her chest and flushed her cheeks. She ground her molars, exhaled and turned to face him. His lack of response angered her further.

"How can you just stand here, so at peace with what has happened – with what we have just witnessed?"

He blinked, shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest. "What exactly did we 'just witness'?"

She narrowed her eyes, batting an insect away from her face. "The little girl, the child you uncovered. She died for no reason."

He continued to watch the mountains. Teyla waited. He did not speak. She closed her eyes to collect herself. She spoke again, "She was killed by human negligence. By the chaos of a Wraith attack, not by the Wraith themselves. Does this not bother you?"

His eyes flicked to the rock-strewn loam beneath his boots. He did not speak.

"She was... so young, so full of life. Who knows what she would have contributed to her world, to us. But now that chance is lost, to us all, for she is dead. Dead, Ronon. By accident."

He looked to her then, and his eyes were like new leaves when their youthful green is haloed by the sun's golden rays. Once they locked onto hers she felt her anger at him melt away, and she looked to her own feet, then the mountains once more. "I am sorry," she apologized. "I did not mean to sound so..."

"It's alright."

She felt her shoulders continue to tense. "It is just so... so wasteful. So utterly pointless." A warm tear slid over her high cheekbone as her throat began to throb. She turned her head the opposite direction from him and bit the inside of her left cheek, angry with herself for crying. But the pulsating pain chocked her and she let out a small sob. The small goosebumps on the back of her neck told her that his eyes were still on her. More tears escaped and she turned around to face him once more, the thin line between his brows making her heart flutter with ache. "It is just all so senseless. Everything. Life... Death..." She noticed his shoulders rise and fall like the swaying limb of a tree in the wind as he took a deep breath. "I just..." she wiped at her tears with her shoulder. "I just sometimes have trouble seeing any point in it all, especially when faced with such utter waste."

His eyes wandered to the reddened earth before her feet.

"If this is what happens, despite all we have done..." His eyes returned to hers. "...despite the many battles we have fought, then what is the meaning in any of it? What is the purpose of life itself?"

He sighed and turned away from her, studying the wild grasses that grew just behind the decaying log before him, tossing gently in the forest-breath. She sniffed, her tears having stopped, and she fought back shame at her weakness before one so poised. Long moments passed as her heartbeat calmed and she felt the skin of her cheeks grow taught with the drying tears. When he spoke her lips parted, for she did not expect the eloquent rumble of his voice, nor even an attempt at an answer.

"Life is..." He turned his eyes to the treetops that rustled and creaked in living secrets. "...a whisper."

Her head was slightly cocked, and she could not look away from his profile. He glanced back at her, and his eyes flickered over her frame, focusing on something in the distance to her side. "...A kiss in a dream." They met hers again, and she held her breath at their intensity before a small butterfly flew between them and his gaze tracked it away from her.

She waited, but the trees filled the pause in speech. He did not say more, but after a few breaths, turned to look at her again. Their eyes met, and brown shied away from green, timid in their sudden depth, soothed by their cruelty-earned wisdom. She looked to the sun-crested tops of the foliage, replaying his words in her mind, the husk of his voice resounding in her ears and heart.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she looked to him again. He was once more keeping vigil over the mountains, yet after a few heartbeats he looked down and self-consciously to her. Her smile blossomed a bit more, and his own smile, almost bashful, began to alight on his face.

"Well, I can't say that we have anything in particular to gain from this, but it's been an experience nonetheless." McKay's nasal drawl broke the moment, and both turned away from the other, composing in a breath, facing their teammates.

"Give 'em a break, Rodney, their village was just attacked. What did you expect?" Sheppard uncloaked the jumper and stepped inside after a curt nod and a "hey guys" to Teyla and Ronon.

"Nothing – let's just... get home." McKay buckled himself in, short tempered when of low blood sugar as he was at the moment.

"That's the idea..." Sheppard waited for Ronon and Teyla to step inside before closing the back and starting up the engines. McKay stared at the wall across from him, the corners of his mouth turned down.

As the ship lifted from the ground, Teyla stole a glance at the Satedan. He was watching the mountains below shrink as they climbed the sky. She turned to watch, too, the small smile returning.

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	3. III Shadows Dance Behind The Firelight

**_Author's Note:_ **Thank you so very kindly to all who have reviewed! May you continue to enjoy this tale, and all be well!

Please **_don't forget_** to visit this story's website! (usual http world wide web tag that this site won't let me post!) angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl/ListenToTheWind.html without the space in-between "angelfire" and "com" of course!

**III. Shadows Dance Behind The Firelight **

The rain had let up to a mist, white in the flickering firelight against the dark night sky. The dripping rainwater from the pines made loud snaps as is splattered onto dead leaves and other foliage. The deep scent of wet earth and plant life filled her nostrils as she breathed deep, drinking in the relative quiet. The popping and soothing hisses of the fire lulled her, it's heat welcome against her shins as she rested with her back and head against a wall of the cave, facing the flames. Ronon was seated across the fire from her, bare-chested, arms wrapped around his thighs for warmth. His shirt was on his shins facing the fire, drying.

It wasn't terribly cold – she even had her jacket unzipped, but the stubborn man across from her had been showing signs of illness all day. He'd been more introverted than usual, sitting often and closing his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. He shifted, moving his shirt to expose a wetter area, his gaze searching out to the night-veiled valley below where the stargate was nestled in a meadow. He sighed almost inaudibly then rested his cheek against his knees. She felt a smile tug at her lips.

Teyla started to shrug off her coat. "You may borrow this, if you-"

"I'm not cold."

The firelight flickered off of his skin, and she could see goosebumps. She arched a brow and shrugged her coat back on. "Of course... how foolish of me."

He turned his head towards her and she smiled to let him know it was a joke. He didn't return the smile but rather inched closer to the fire. She resisted the urge to radio Col. Sheppard to check his status on his returning journey to the 'gate.

The rain had stopped now and the dripping of the trees was lessening. She crouched before the fire and added more wood. Some of it was still wet and steamed and smoldered in the flames. She sighed and sat back against the cave wall, flicking her bangs out of her eyes. She let her elbows rest on her knees, her wrists crossed as she gazed into the flames. They drew her in with their siren colors, shifting shades of heat. They seemed to dance, and the sparks that rose with the smoke gyred and disappeared. It brought her peace.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her trance was broken by his voice, slightly hoarse from disuse and quiet. She drew in a deep breath, looking to him then the flames again. His temple was resting against his knee as he watched her. "...I was just thinking how the flames seem to take on a shape and life of their own."

He rested his chin on his knees, looking into the fire as well. "They do."

She eyed him for a few more heartbeats, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You spent many nights such as this as a Runner, didn't you?"

He sniffed a little and she noted that he sounded congested. "Yeah."

"...You must have been very lonely."

Keen green eyes flicked to hers then to the mouth of the cave once more. He itched at his left arm with his right. "Sometimes during the day."

"Why not at night?" She cocked her head.

"Well... when I'd," he gestured to the flames, "build a fire I was okay."

"The warmth helped you then?"

He shrugged a little. "Probably." He was looking into the flames again and he fell silent. She also watched the licked wood, the ashes on the rim of the fire near the cave entrance fluttering in the breeze. "But... more that that, though." He looked to her again and inclined his head toward the fire. "Like you said, shadows dance behind the firelight. And..." he took in a deep breath, beginning to show some weariness. He continued as he exhaled. "...all the spirits of the night remind us we are not alone."

A corner of her mouth curved up. "Many see gods in the flames. What do you see?"

"Companions in the warmth. A reminder of tomorrow - the sun soon rising."

She felt her heart lift at his words for she was beginning to glimpse the secret strength that helped Ronon survive as a Runner. "Yes. There is always a new day."

"...A new day for remembering."

She leaned forward a bit, trying to catch his eyes but he would not look to her. "Ronon – your days as a Runner are over. You are free now. You may have whatever future you wish. Sometimes we must let go of the past to better see our opportunities."

"I can't let go."

She took a risk. "You can't or you do not want to?"

"Both." He turned his head to look at her. "Because they're the same."

She sighed and leaned back against the cave wall again. "What are?"

"The past and the present."

"No, Ronon, they are different." For a moment she had thought she was getting through to him – convincing him to begin to let go of the hurt and anger. How could she make him understand that he could begin again? That he was free to breathe and to reach the full potential she saw inside of him?

"They are." He rested his chin on his knees again, his eyes traveling the arch of the stone that made the mouth of the cave. "You are what you have been."

She sighed and felt her hope dip even more inside her chest. He shifted, folding his arms over his stomach before leaning against his legs again with a small shiver. Her brows furrowed. "Do you truly believe you have not changed since we met you?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that is what you meant, is it not?"

"No."

"Then what did you mean?"

He poked at the fire with a thin branch. "I said I'd sometimes get lonely during the day, because I'd spend a lot of time remembering what once was. Then I'd look at who and where I was at that moment, and I'd feel alone. But everyday I lived in the memories, in the past and the present." He looked over at her again. "It's who we are, Teyla. The past is who we are right here, right now."

She allowed his words to sink in, compounded by the way the firelight danced in his eyes. "I suppose that is true. Time is... a river that flows endlessly."

He shifted his weight, his boots making a soft scuffing noise. "Yesterday is here beside us and it's never far away. It's good to remember."

She smiled. "Especially to remember those who are no longer with us."

He nodded solemnly, his hair falling over his shoulders as he gazed into the fire. Her heart went out to him, for in that moment, in that small gesture, he showed his youth and his vulnerability that he usually hid so well under a stony mask. She recalled the MALP images of a destroyed Sateda, and knew that he had much remembering to do.

A reflective silence fell between them. As the wind picked up again she noticed that he started to quiver. He shifted again, hunching in on himself even more. His eyes were closed and he was starting to drift. She smiled, closing her own eyes. They snapped open again at a loud slap. Ronon had started to fall over in his sleep and flung out a palm to catch himself. She bit her lower lip, stifling a laugh as he looked to her confusedly, momentarily dazed by sleep and fever. She stretched out her legs in front of her and patted her lap. "Come here."

He rubbed his eyes. "I'm fine."

"You've been shaking for the past hour, Ronon. You have a fever." He looked about to fall asleep again and she laughed quietly. Her laugh woke him a bit more and he looked to her. She arched a brow with a smirk. After another moment of hesitation he crawled across the few feet between them and she placed a hand on his temple, guiding his head to rest on her lap. She brushed his hair out of his half-lidded eyes, frowning slightly at how hot his skin was. "You're burning up."

He didn't respond, his eyes drifting shut and his muscles slowly relaxing. Once his eyes were closed she laid her hand on his arm, running her thumb along his shoulder, humming quietly. She closed her eyes, the sounds of the fire lulling her. He surprised her when he spoke. "Are you singing?"

She smiled. "I was humming, yes."

"It's pretty."

"It is a song my mother used to sing to me."

There was a pause. "Will you sing it?"

She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. "You want me to?"

He sighed, his eyes closed. "Sure."

She moved another lock of his hair, looking down at him. "Only if you go to sleep."

He shifted, curling up more. "Okay."

She smirked, tempted to laugh at his behavior and tucked her bangs behind her ear, ensuring that her radio was still on incase Sheppard tried to reach them again. She hummed for a while, then quietly sang.  
"They didn't have you where I come from  
Never knew the best was yet to come  
Life began when I saw your face  
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough, is forever enough?  
How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough?  
'Cause I'm never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you're asleep  
To hold you close and feel your breath on me  
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do  
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough, is forever enough?  
How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough?  
'Cause I'm never, never giving you up

As you wander through this troubled world  
In search of all things beautiful  
You can close your eyes when you're miles away  
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough, is forever enough?  
How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough?  
'Cause I'm never, never giving you up

How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough, is forever enough?  
How long do you want to be loved  
Is forever enough?  
'Cause I'm never, never giving you up  
Is forever enough?  
'Cause I'm never, never giving you up."

As she finished the song, her cheeks began to color slightly. She had always thought of the lullaby as being about the love between a parent and child, but looking down at the sleeping Satedan it struck her that it could just as easily be about anyone loved. She realized that she'd been running her fingers across a knot of his hair as she sang and she stilled her hand, biting her lower lip as he shifted on her lap, yet his expression was peaceful and his breathing was even.

She cocked her head as she watched his face for a few moments longer, noting the small beads of sweat along his hairline and the smoothness of his skin. His height and hardened expressions had always made him seem wizened, as if he harbored the spirit of an ancient warrior, yet looking at him now she saw the hardships lifted, revealing the youth that his time as a Runner had stolen from him, the youth that so often expressed itself in impulsive actions and an inability to harness his anger.

She couldn't blame him for being angry, and she knew that given time, he may learn to laugh more, to begin to live the light that he lost in his years of fettered shadow. When he first joined the team, she had asked him how old he was when he had been taken in the culling of his world. The answer had haunted her ever since. Nineteen. Still a child, in her opinion. He had come of age as a Runner. She could forgive him for his faults and smiled a little when she thought of how he'd changed since they'd first met. His eyes had slowly warmed and he'd begun to trust again. The evidence was his head in her lap at that moment, and his allowance of her hand to rest on his heated shoulder.

She thought back to their earlier conversation. He hadn't been refusing to change as she had first thought. He was gifting her some of the aged light of the stars – that wisdom he had earned wandering below their depths, haunted and hunted. She realized now why the firelight in his eyes had rendered his words so truthful. They'd taken on the whimsical shade of faerie green, starlight dancing. Starlight wisdom. She closed her eyes, the lullaby of the fire and Ronon's steady breathing and heartbeat swiftly calling to her. As she drifted, her heart fluttered with the hope of tomorrow, and the sun soon rising, all their yesterdays at their side, guiding them forward.

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	4. IV We Thought Our Hearts Would Break

**_Author's Note:_** This is probably the chapter that is dearest to my heart. **_Please_** do visit it at angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl2/HeartsWouldBreak.html and share your thoughts with me. I am forever grateful for your readership. Thank you!

**IV. We Thought Our Hearts Would Break **

The grass came up to his thighs and to her waist as they ran, the thin strands bending as they passed, garments warding off their sting. She laughed under her breath as she felt the tips of the blades brush against her raised arms, glad there was no one to see them in such foolery. His stride was large and he chanced a look over his shoulder only to let out an involuntary squeal when he saw just how close she was to him. He tried to make his legs move faster but the laughter inside weakened his frame and it was all he could do to keep running.

The sun reflected off two pairs of copper shoulders, the warm breeze rippling the meadow like the sea. Aged-golden and cornflower butterflies fluttered on the breath of summer, clustering about the oaks that ringed the glen.

"Ronon," Teyla panted through a grin, a laugh in her voice.

From a glimpse she could see his eyes thin as he grinned at her tone. His gate betrayed that laughter threatened to steal his precious breath and she knew he couldn't possibly run much further without stumbling in amusement. He raised an arm and tossed the rucksack with her lunch a ways from him before slowing, apparently hoping his surrender of the snatched item would change her course, but it was not to be.

Teyla watched as her rucksack soared away from Ronon, disappearing into the tall grass. His playful theft of it was what had instigated her pursuit, yet now it seemed beside the point. She kept her momentum as he slowed, launching herself at his mid-section, toppling him over as they both landed in a shelter of deep green, the soil beneath cool and damp.

Ronon felt much of the air cough out of his lungs as his back hit the ground, the Athosian landing on his ribs. The firm flesh of his chest was warm beneath her fingertips as she pressed against the cloth of his shirt and rose, pausing to smash a fistful of the soil against his cheek, grinning at his surprised wonder. The grass hissed as she slipped through, heading for her pack as Ronon struggled to breathe, brushing the sand off his cheek as he sat up. Her smile grew as she felt his eyes upon her, hearing him climb to his feet, and she reigned in her thoughts, not allowing her mind to wander enough to acknowledge his touch as the source of her enjoyment.

She disappeared in the grass as she crouched to retrieve her bag. She arched a brow at him when she arose, pack slung over one shoulder. She attempted to force admonition into her voice but her laugh stripped it away. "Are you happy with yourself, Ronon Dex?"

He looked sideways to the sky and lifted his brows in mock-consideration. She tried not to stare as he bit the inside corner of his lower lip. He looked back to her and the hissing of the pulsating grass between them hid the thumping of hearts. "I'd have been happier with myself if I'd made it to the river and thrown it in."

She forced her eyes to narrow at him, the laughing lilt in his voice and the way the greens of his eyes danced as the sun on the meadow grass lifting her heart. She held her head a little higher and strode past him. "You never would have made it that far." She intentionally bumped her shoulder against his arm as she stepped past, the breeze fluttering her bangs and the wisps of hair that escaped her braid.

Her smile broadened then faltered when she fell, barely catching herself before her chest slammed into the ground.

"Ooops." Ronon kept a straight face as he pulled his foot away from hers. She ignored the stinging grass cuts on her bare arms as she looked up to him in surprise. He crouched next to her, hands idly resting on his knees with no offer of aid. "Guess that makes us even, doesn't it?" He gave the top of her head a light pat as he rose then began to stride back towards their rendezvous point with Sheppard.

Teyla shoved herself back up, resisting the urge to shake her head at him for his impishness. She watched him walk for a few moments, cocking her head at how he trailed his fingertips over the tasseled tops of the grasses, how he watched them sway at his touch, as if finding solace with them.

She looked over her shoulder as he rounded behind an oak, a sudden longing to find the river they heard in the distance. But they weren't supposed to split up, and she tore her eyes from the distant tree line and its whispering temptation. With a sigh, she began through the grass toward the large rocks she and Ronon had been resting on earlier. She glanced about for Ronon and called his name when she could not see him.

"What?"

She let her shoulders slump as his predictably brief answer came from behind a grove of pines and granite. She slipped the pack from her shoulder and sat down as she undid the latch. She'd just decided on what to eat first when Ronon called her name, and she stood up, unable to discern if his voice was colored was urgency or something unknown.

"Yes?" She picked up her P-90 and started toward his voice.

"Come and see this!"

She paused, letting the gun fall to her side. He sounded intrigued, not endangered. With a slight roll of the eyes, she wove through the fines and hopped over a protruding rock of moss-pocketed granite, spying Ronon on the edge of another glade. She stepped up beside him, glancing to his profile then to the meadow, greeted by the pinks, purples, whites and yellows of blooming wildflowers, blending with the foam-topped green of the grasses. She looked to his profile again, amused by their shared appreciation of the beauty before them. The wind blew the sweet scents of grasses, the tang of the pines and the earth of the oaks, joining in nature's welcome. She closed her eyes as the scents wafted over her, hating to exhale for the loss it would bring, yet rewarded with each inhalation.

She started a little when his hand suddenly closed on hers and he stepped forward. "I want to show you something," was all he replied to her startled look to him.

Letting him lead her, she stepped into the meadow, the insects milling about the flowers occasionally curiously swooping near to their faces. The ground sank a little beneath her boots and she looked down to notice drying mud. The grasses grew darker and more lush in a line through the meadow, thriving in a spring.

It was here that Ronon stopped, tugging her down with him as he crouched among the grasses. The spring trickled beside him, glinting now and then in the sunlight. She wiped at the sweat on her nose with her knuckle, wondering if the spring were what Ronon found so remarkable and why.

His eyes were alight with something she had yet to grow accustomed to – happiness. "Now close your eyes."

Furrowing her brow slightly, she tilted her chin in a silent question.

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile and she returned it. "Should I be frightened?"

His expression softened, his smile in his eyes now. "Just don't open them 'till I say. Okay?"

She kept her gaze locked with his, slightly unsettled by his request, her mind racing through all of the possibilities of what he could be about to do yet settling on none.

When he raised his brows pleadingly, silently asking for her trust after the shenanigans he'd pulled earlier, she relented, her hand going limp in his as she closed her eyes, sitting on her haunches. "Alright."

There was a soft rustle as he shifted his feet, then his hand was gone from hers and she found its absence a consuming distraction from the sounds and smells of the meadow. He was moving again, and the whispers of parting reeds and the light trickle and drip of water gave her focus.

She inhaled suddenly when cool water dripped on her shoulders and her eyelids instinctively began to flutter open until she remembered her pledge, and she squeezed them shut once more. There was another trickle of water and she cocked her head, listening, entirely perplexed by this ritual. She had a mind to ask him what he was doing when more handfuls of water trickled onto her shoulders, yet this time he ran his hands down her arms with the water, smoothing it across her skin. She breathed deeply as the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she fought off a small shiver, coloring slightly, knowing the water was not cold enough to elicit such a reaction.

He gently lifted each of her arms so that they warmed fully in the sun, then smoothed more water onto them." Now, hold still." His voice was a whisper and she stilled when she felt his breath on her as he moved away. She did as he instructed, feeling silly, wondering if her trust in him had been misplaced and that he was now silently laughing at her.

He made no sound save for the rustlings of the plants as he backed into them, how far she could not tell. Moments passed, and the breeze tickled her skin, but he did not speak, and his presence blended until she lost herself in the choir of the world around her, beautiful, alive, and still.

His voice was husky when it wafted to her across the tassels of the grasses. "Now, open your eyes."

She was so at peace that she hesitated, blinking in the return of light. Ronon was standing about ten feet from her, small wonder in his eyes as he looked at her.

He read the question on her lips before she had fully formed it and he inclined his head toward her right arm. She followed his gaze and a smile blossomed when she saw what he'd been looking at. A butterfly with wings of buttercup spotted with black and coattails dappled with iridescent blue had alighted on her forearm, drinking from the drying film of water there. Another was on her bicep, and yet another perched on her thumb, their colors shifting as they pivoted in the sunlight, slowly pumping their wings in place. She looked to her other arm and was met with a similar sight, midnight blue shifting to raspberry, then to peacock green in the light. She looked back to Ronon, eyes alight with delight, biting her lip when a butterfly landed on the top of his head.

He slowly raised a hand, palm up, asking her to rise. When she did, the butterflies took flight, air-dancing with the dozens of others that now swarmed, twirling and gliding over the tops of the flowers and the grasses that glistened from the water Ronon had painted them with. Their simple majesty danced before the collage of wildflowers, soaring and swaying in the breeze like the meadow grass, and she suddenly felt the wind hushing through the treetops, the breath of the land.

She looked back to Ronon, her eyes traveling his features as he watched the nearby leaves with the same quiet awe and adoration that welled in her chest. He must have felt her gaze on him, for he shifted his eyes to hers, an they were as a child's, lifting her heart in their innocent wonder.

His words were barely audible, yet they resounded in her soul. "This is life."

She knew her eyes now reflected his wonder, yet it was as much for the man before her as it was for the beauty around them. He looked away from her, his eyes traveling the whispering treetops again and she felt free to drink in his countenance.

She had never seen him so at peace, and she realized with a bashful smile as she returned her gaze to the glen, that she hadn't felt so blissful in a long time. A gust played with her hair and she closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. "It is as if the trees sing."

He gave her a small, slow nod, his face still wistful as he watched the boughs sway in their song. He shifted his weight, resting one foot and folding his arms over his chest. She caught herself smirking at him as she pivoted to face the trees. "Thank you, Ronon, for letting me hear their voice."

He looked down, and the shifting shadows of dancing light from the spring painted his face. "It's always been here, even if you couldn't find it. You didn't need me to hear it." He looked back up to her, his head still slightly inclined. "Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song."

Though she tried, she couldn't look away from him.

Sheppard radioed, his tour of the local settlement completed, and he was on his way to their rendezvous point.

The two made their way back in companionable silence, the sights and sounds of the glade fading behind them, replaced by the distant rush of the river.

"That place was..." She attempted to speak to the peace she felt filled them, yet found herself wanting of words.

He gave her a brief look of amused understanding, tearing at a piece of grass as they walked, then his expression shifted to something deeper, his eyes traveling from her shoulders to her bangs. A hint of the same wonder she witnessed earlier returned. "Some things are just beautiful beyond words, and you think your heart'll break."

His eyes lingered and her breath hitched in her chest, slowing as her legs weakened from the small smile he offered her before striding ahead to greet Sheppard at the rocks.

**_Please review!_**


	5. V It Always Remains

**_Author's Note:_ **Thanks, as always, to those who have reviewed! I greatly appreciate your feedback! May you all continue to enjoy! Much love! This chapter on my site: angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl3/Always.html

**V. It Always Remains**

"My father was a warrior. He as away a lot, so I was raised by my mother."

She glanced to him as she unrolled her bedding, the snowstorm wind whistling through some of the planks of the cabin. The wood stove warmed her arm and she was grateful that Ronon had placed his bedroll alongside the wall, offering her the warmth of the fire. She smiled as they both finished tucking their blankets around their sleeping pads. "She did a fine job."

He made an effort of arranging his pillow so that she wouldn't see his flattered response.

Encouraged by his meek reaction, she toyed a bit more. "I'm sure both of your parents would be very proud of you, Ronon."

He was quiet for a heartbeat, sitting with his legs folded under him, then he flashed her a self-conscious look and a mumbled "thank you."

"You kids settled?"

Both looked over to see Sheppard in the doorway, hands on his hips.

Ronon answered first. "Yep."

"Good." Sheppard gave a brief nod.

Teyla couldn't help but grin at the defeated look on the Colonel's face. "And you, Colonel Sheppard?"

He tried not to scowl at her. "Oh yeah, I'm dandy."

Ronon shrugged, amused. "It was your idea to draw straws."

"Yeah, but usually I'm able to rig it so that I don't get the short one."

Teyla shook her head, smiling. "Colonel, Dr. McKay's snoring isn't _that_ bad-"

"Let me put it this way, Teyla." He took a step forward. "I'd rather be sharing a room with a rhinoceros."

Ronon lifted his chin a little, his arms folded over his crossed legs. "What's a rhinoersus?"

Teyla looked away to hide the fact that she was biting her lip to stifle laughter and amusement danced in Sheppard's eyes. "It's an animal from earth. Big, smelly, with a horn on its nose."

Ronon narrowed his eyes. "Why's it have a horn on its nose?"

Sheppard opened his mouth with a professorial look before closing it again, eyebrows raised.

A corner of Ronon's lips lifted in an amused smirk at Sheppard's expression. Before the colonel could admit that he didn't know, Teyla leaned towards the Satedan and hastily whispered under her breath. "To hit other rhinoserasus' with."

Sheppard cocked his head as the two aliens chuckled in amusement. He bounced on the balls of his heels. "Exactly." Ronon and Teyla looked back to him and he sighed, obviously dreading the restless night's sleep ahead of him. "Night guys."

"Goodnight, Colonel."

"Night."

As soon as his form cleared the doorway the shape of their elderly hostess replaced it. "Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

Teyla inclined her head with a smile. "No, thank you. We are quite comfortable here."

"And thank you for the meal."

The elderly woman bowed her head at both. "Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything." The two thanked her and she shuffled down the hall to Sheppard and McKay's room. Teyla rose and quietly closed the door. Ronon was already lying on his bed, watching the snow appearing out of the dark night as it pelted against the glass of the window across from him. She followed his gaze as she sat down, the silence between them filled with the thudding of the snow and the wailing of the wind. She could hear eerie whistles and howls echoing down the metal pipe of the stove's chimney. Though she couldn't place why, the noise unsettled her and she broached the wind. "Was there snow where you come from?"

Ronon blinked to her as he drew a breath, pulling out of his thoughts. He swallowed to clear his throat. "Sometimes."

She unlaced her boots. "There was snow in the mountains of Athos. Sometimes my village took trips there to visit the people of the Highlands." She paused, trying not to wonder what became of the Highlanders after the awakening of the Wraith. Their villages had been very small, defended only by their rocky slopes. "I did not often go. I suppose I prefer the warmth to the cold."

Ronon had already tugged off his boots and now slipped under his blanket.

She felt foolish for speaking of herself when he didn't respond, so she prompted him. "And you?"

He sighed, lying down on his back. "Never much cared for snow, either."

She ran her fingers through her lose hair, untangling it as much as she could before braiding it.

He rested his hands under his head, watching the window. "I used to complain about it..." His face lit with the ghost of a smile at a memory. "And my mother would remind me that it was only temporary. She knew I loved summer best."

"As much as I dislike the cold, watching the seasons change has always brought me such... admiration for the world around me."

His voice was gravelly, quietly relaxed as his breathing evened. "It's always changing."

She tied off her braid. "Always something new to see..." Her mind drifted to her childhood and the visits to the Highlands. Her life before seemed something of a distant past. Her voice grew somber. "So much can change in the blink of an eye."

He rolled his head to look over at her, his gaze inquiring at her grave tone. Though she knew his life had also been shaped by forces outside of his control, she allowed herself this moment of quiet ponderance, keeping her eyes turned down, remembering what once was, lamenting the thefts of change and time.

Long moments passed and she felt his eyes upon her still, yet she did not meet them, enjoying the warm tickling they left on her skin.

"A lot changes, but not everything."

His quiet voice fed the pleasant chills and the tingling filled her chest. With some effort, she looked to him. His eyes were genuine, if not fringed with sleepiness. She rested her cheekbone on her knee, looking down at him. His eyes flitted to the door as the light underneath the frame disappeared, their hostess having retired to her room. He looked back to Teyla and the earnestness of his eyes called to her, pulling her in with the invitation of shelter and beauty. "There's one thing that stays the same."

Though she tried, she couldn't shift her eyes from his, and she found peace in that unabashed surrender. "What's that?"

Distantly, she noticed that he made no effort to look away, either, their voices close to whispers. "It's forever, the circle unbroken. Seasons keep changing – it always remains."

Her eyebrows twitched towards each other, her mind sluggish, her senses distracted by him.

"Spring will melt the snows of winter and the summer gives us days of light so long till autumn makes it fade. It has no end, like the wind in the trees."

She realized he'd stopped speaking and looked to her feet, attempting to distract him from her blush with her words, lightening her voice, confused by the way time had just slowed. "There are many things that are as such, Ronon."

"Many things, but only one thing."

She looked back, her heart skipping a little faster when she found his eyes waiting for hers. He tilted his head ever so slightly, inquisitive green searching her brown as he looked up to her. She suddenly felt lighthearted, his gentle countenance welling warmth in her breast. Yet when he offered no more explanation, she narrowed her eyes. "You are not going to tell me, are you?"

His eyes gracefully shifted from curious to playful before she'd even finished her question. He shook his head 'no,' his smile dancing more in his eyes than on his lips.

She forced a sigh, glancing away from him and to the wall to her left, biting back the pleasant butterflies of a giggle. There was the shifting of wool on wool and when she looked back he'd pulled his blanket up to his shoulders. He gave her his attention once more when she spoke. "Then I suppose I shall have to listen to the wind, won't I?"

His eyes traveled her face searchingly for a few heartbeats before settling on hers, a soft glow alighting within them, causing her to miss a breath. But then they shifted, and the affectionate glow was joined by the aged starlight of the wisdom of a wanderer. He nodded once, his eyes not leaving hers. "You'll always find it there."

Assurance coupled with puzzlement danced in her spirit, but her thoughts were interrupted by a loud snore from down the hall. Both recovered from their start with a smile. There was another snore and Teyla chuckled, reaching to turn off the kerosene lantern. "Goodnight, Ronon." She turned the knob, lowering the room in darkness.

She could hear him roll over so his back was to her as she slipped under her blanket.

"Night, Teyla."

* * *

Screams were everywhere, pounding her ears. Futile gunshots sickeningly ceased and all fell silent. A Wraith suddenly reared before her, its blood-curdling screech deafening as its eyes widened, reaching out its arm to feed on her.

* * *

She shot up on her bedroll, flinging the woolen blanket from her with a panicked gasp, glancing wildly about the room, yet the darkness pressed in on her. The pattering against the windowpane was the only reminder of where she was. 

She shivered with sweat and jumped when a husky voice asked if she was alright. It took only a moment for her to recognize it as Ronon's and for her to fully remember where she was. She placed a hand over her heart as she closed her eyes, calming. The stovepipe near her screeched in a gust and with relief, she knew the source of her nightmare. "Yes, it was... just a dream."

She could feel his sigh of relief against her shoulder and she stiffened, not having thought him so close. The dying embers of the stove aided her adjusting vision and she could faintly see the sheen of his bare arms and the glint of metal as he sheaved his knife. She heard him sit back down, giving her her space. "About what?"

"The Wraith."

There was alarm in his voice. "You sense them?"

"No." She shook her head, a small shiver coursing through her as her damp skin quickly cooled in the drafty room.

He was quiet, allowing her time to gather her thoughts to speak further. She knew his eyes were protectively on her. "It was this stove. The wind in the chimney sounded like a Wraith."

She felt foolish admitting to such a childish truth, yet the feeling quickly absolved when he showed no amusement in her revelation. "We should switch places, then."

She could discern more of his body now. "You would not mind?"

He pushed himself up from the bedroll. "Of course not."

She rose to move, her braid falling from her back, exposing the bare of her neck to the cold and she shivered.

He rested his hand on her back as he crouched past then paused, surprise in his voice. "You're trembling."

"It is nothing." She answered too quickly and knew he'd see through her response since her arms quaked with dissipating adrenaline. He slid his hand down her lower back, his other resting on her bicep, making her heart beat faster and a new trembling begin. He pulled his hands away and she fought the urge to lean towards him in pursuit. He exhaled as he sat back on his haunches, looking from the chilly wall his bedroll was against and the stove. Then he moved, and his bedroll hit her hand on the floor. She shifted back onto her bedding as he scooted his next to hers, then grabbed his blanket, crawling behind her. "I'll sleep here, so that way you don't have to hear the wind. And now you won't be cold – the other side of that wall is snowdrift."

"Thank you." She tried to keep each action graceful and deliberate so as to not betray how very aware of his nearness she was. She matched his calm as he lay down with his back to her, lifting the blanket for her to crawl under behind him. Tugging the blanket to her shoulders, she rested her forehead against his back, feeling slightly flush when she felt that his heart was beating at least as fast as hers.

The warmth from his body relaxed her and she focused on breathing evenly to keep up her half of their feigned composure. She couldn't help but notice that he didn't sound very sleepy when he spoke. "Just remember something happy."

She tilted her head so her chin was nestled beside his spine, curling up her legs, careful not to bump him. Her heart was beginning to slow and she tucked her hands against her breastbone, soothingly warm. "Such as?"

He turned his head a little towards her even if he couldn't see her. "I dunno. Something to take your mind off the dream." He lay his head back down.

She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against him again. She didn't need to ask – his voice spoke of untold nightmares by the hundreds. "What helps you?"

The wind whistled for the span of a few breaths, then he answered, his quiet voice lulling. "...Remember the sound of laughter."

Her mind immediately drifted to a wildflower-filled meadow and she smiled. "That is a pleasant thought."

No more needed to be said, and lulled by his steady heartbeat the howling of the wind was forgotten. She slept as peacefully as Sheppard didn't.

_**Please review! **_


	6. VI I'm Not Really Gone

**_Author's Note:_ **Thanks to all who continue to read! This chapter earned me many a beating from my younger sister, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! May you all be well!

angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl3/Gone.html **  
**

**VI. I'm Not Really Gone **

They were separated seconds after the battle erupted, each pulling back to a defensive position. The hostiles retreated once they realized their weapons were crude in comparison to those who came through the Ring of the Ancestors.

Sheppard waited until he was sure the locals had actually retreated and weren't feinting before radioing his team to check in. He didn't get a response from Ronon, so he contacted Teyla again. "Teyla, you got a visual on Ronon?"

She hastily scanned her surroundings, her breath growing short. "Negative, Colonel."

She could hear Sheppard curse under his breath. "Alright – McKay, Teyla, we split up and look for him. Stay in radio contact at all times – check in every five minutes. Understood?"

Both affirmed.

"Good." She could hear the grim determination in his voice. "Let's just hope he got sidetracked by a fruit tree or something..."

She couldn't smile at his optimism, for her stomach was growing cold. Apprehension sped her heart and she clumsily trampled a young fern as she started in the direction where she last saw Ronon. Her bangs fell forward, slightly obscuring her vision. She shook her head but they remained where they were. Hardly caring, she called out his name. There was no answer.

She jumped slightly when Sheppard contacted her through her earpiece. Shoving down her growing panic that it had already been five minutes since they began searching, she allowed herself the small hope that one of her teammates had found him, safe and whole.

"Got anything yet?"

She closed her eyes and let out a breath to compose herself, her stomach cringing with dread at his question. "No, Colonel, I have not."

Sheppard sighed. "Alright, keep looking. I'll check back in another five."

She was surprised to find her lower jaw had grown weak and the coiling fear inside nearly choked her words. "Yes." The static of their radios hid the quiver in her voice, and for that she was thankful.

Taking a moment to tuck her bangs behind her ears, forehead glistening with perspiration, she bit the inside of her lower lip to stem its tremble. The wind blew and the swaying trees and bird cries around her darkened, suddenly foreign and ominous to her senses.

"Ronon?" The wind blew her bangs loose and again and her chest heaved with urgency, apprehension making her voice shrill. "Ronon!"

The wind shifted and she held her breath, eyes wide. Her name had been in that gust. Stock still, she strained her ears. The wind died and she heard it again, coming from the west. It was Ronon's voice. Holding her awkward P-90 at the side, she dashed towards her name. "Ronon?"

After a few heartbeats she slowed, waiting for a guiding response. When there was none, she drew a breath to call his name again. Before she could let it out, she heard a branch break to her right and ran in that direction, weapon at the ready.

Yet no manner of weaponry could have protected her for from what she found.

Ronon tried to step away from a pine, stumbling to his knees. The lower half of his shirt was soaked with dark blood. She gasped then suddenly had to fight off the urge to gag and turn away, instead slowly lowering her firearm as she looked to his face. He was looking down at his hands which were resting on his stomach around a protruding knife hilt. He pulled them away when his body spasmed and sluggishly turned them over, palms up, the blood glinting in the sunlight. He looked up to her and the betrayed fear in his eyes constricted her throat.

She stumbled forward and wrestled to detangle herself from her gun, noting how the blood also coated his breeches and his waxy complexion.

"Teyla..." his voice was a cracked, pleading gasp that made her heart miss a beat. He seemed dizzy and looked down, disoriented, before falling over backwards with a choked whimper.

She caught his shoulders before he hit the ground and eased him into her lap. "I'm right here, Ronon."

He awkwardly straightened his legs and she looked to his bloodied torso once more before pressing a button on her radio. "Colonel Sheppard, I have found him, yet he is in grave need of medical assistance."

She could tell Sheppard was running by the pitch of his voice. "What happened?"

Her eyes traveled to the knife hilt and another dark tear in the fabric, indicating a second wound. "I do not know..." She glanced around her at the trees fringing the small glade. Smoke was rising from the east. "I am to the west of the village in a clearing. Please hurry."

"I'm on my way."

Ronon's muscles were incredibly tight and he grunted in pain as he fought to control his agony-induced writhing. She tugged on her sleeves, shrugging off her coat, the memory of doing the same on a more pleasant occasion flickering behind her eyes like firelight dancing off cave walls. She leaned over him and pressed her wadded jacket to the open wound on his left flank, pressing down. He was gritting his teeth, beads of sweat adorning his temple, his skin sticky. She guided his left hand to his side to direct him to apply pressure to his wound while she examined the embedded knife.

"Colonel Sheppard is on his way." She glanced about and noticed that his weapons and earpiece were gone. "What happened?"

"They... tried to kill-" he gasped for air around the agony of his abdomen. "-was a retreat."

She nodded, resting a hand on his cheek, stilling further speech, her brows furrowed at the effort his speaking required. "It will be all right, Ronon. You're safe now. They are gone."

His eyes were squeezed shut and the sunlight shimmered on a teardrop in the corner of one. He let out his breath in a roared gasp, his body shuddering. "Take it out."

She looked to his right hand resting on his stomach, clenching and clawing the air near the knife hilt. She was no healer and knew that only one experienced in medicine should remove the blade, lest it cause more damage with the exit wound. "I... I can't."

He tilted his head back in exhaustion as the onslaught of pain eased for a brief moment. "Please..."

Tears stung her eyes at the beg in his voice, his eyes pleading as they searched hers. Her lips parted, suddenly close to sobs.

Sheppard broke through the ringing trees before she could reply. He skidded to a halt beside his native companions, looking them both over. "Jesus – what the hell happened?"

Teyla hastily wiped away a tear, Ronon's back again arching in agony upon her thighs. "They tried to kill him and stole his weapons when a retreat was called. I found him here-"

"Sheppard," Ronon's husky voice interrupted her own.

"I'm right here, Ronon." He clasped the Satedan's free hand. "McKay's already headed for the 'gate to bring Carson back here to help ya."

Ronon released Sheppard's hand, grasping Teyla's arm, leaving both of his teammates' skin stained with crimson as a shudder coursed through his frame, stealing his breath. He howled Teyla's name, tears slipping down his cheeks as he arched upward, his left hand leaving the jacket to claw at the trampled grass at his side. Sheppard's eyes widened as his once-invincible friend's body wailed in such palpable mortal agony.

Teyla squeezed her eyes shut, a tear escaping as Ronon gripped her arm in misery. His grip weakened and his body slackened as the pain ebbed, but the taught muscles of his back against her thighs told her that they were already building up another wave of torture.

"Please?" Ronon gasped out again, his voice a defeated plea, tears snaking down his temples.

Teyla tore her gaze from his eyes, their jade marred with pain, making them seem strange and foreign rather than the eyes she was so used to, the eyes she woke up every morning hoping to see. She looked back to the knife in his abdomen and Sheppard followed her gaze, arching a brow as he took off his vest to reach his medical supplies. He paused to pick up the broken, bloodied shaft of an arrow with a significant look to Teyla, knowing it had caused the flank wound.

Teyla gave him a grim nod of confirmation, wiping away another tear with a quiet sniffle before sliding her hands under Ronon's shoulders. "Hold him."

Sheppard paused his wrestling of the gauze out of its plastic packaging. "What?"

"Do as I am doing now." Her guidance was interrupted by a wail from the Satedan and she clenched her jaw, her decision made. Sheppard laid the gauze on his discarded vest and crawled over to Teyla, carefully taking his teammate's shoulders and easing him onto his lap as Teyla crouched near his abdomen, pressing down on her jacket and gently examining the knife hilt.

"You're going to take it out?" He tried to ignore the sickening sensation as he felt the quivering of Ronon's body.

"It is causing him great pain." She tore the fabric of his shirt near the wound, better able to see the blood-slicked skin. She placed her left hand on his abdomen, her thumb on one side of the hilt, fingers on the other. She began to apply pressure when Ronon screamed and she jerked her hand away, her frightened eyes darting to his face.

Sheppard laid his forearm across the Satedan's collarbone, applying gentle restraining pressure. "Go on, I've got him."

Teyla blinked the blurring tears out of her eyes and nodded, returning her hand to its former position. She curled the fingers of her right around the hilt then let go once she found them to be slippery with blood. Hastily wiping them off on her trousers, she grabbed again and looked to Sheppard. "On the count of three."

Ronon's left hand dug into the earth, his right gripped Sheppard's forearm as he attempted to brace himself for what was to come.

Teyla looked back to the hilt and took a few shallow breaths to fight off her nausea. "One..."she tightened her grip, as did Sheppard. "Two..." she closed her eyes briefly, yet when she opened them again they were determined. "Three." In one fluid movement, she leaned forward, pressing down on his stomach with her left hand and pulling the knife out at the angle it entered.

Ronon screamed, the sound cringing her ears as her lip curled at the blade in her hands. He suddenly went limp and breathed in whimpers as blood gushed from the new opening at an alarming rate. She grabbed the wad of gauze Sheppard had set aside and pressed it against the wound, Sheppard relaxing his grip as the Satedan continued to grow limp in his arms. With every heartbeat she could feel the warmth of more blood soaking through the cotton and the horrible thought that it might not stop flooded her.

"Here," Sheppard's quiet voice drew her attention away from the pulsating red beneath her hands. He gave her a brief nod, indicating that they should switch, and she numbly crawled over to him, resting Ronon's shoulders in her lap once more. His eyes were half lidded with exhaustion, the copper of his skin seceding to a ghostly pale. She looked to Sheppard after observing how short and shallow Ronon's quiet wheezing was. He'd lifted the soaked gauze up to glance at the wound, but it was obscured with blood. His grim eyes met hers and time seemed to slow as the sound of her blood rushing past her ears enveloped her. She could see the leaves of the trees wafting in the breeze and could distantly hear their whispering leaves and the chirps of birds. Smoke stung her nostrils, momentarily blocking out the scent of blood, fear and death as a warm breeze from the east brushed her bangs off her forehead. Sheppard's lips were moving and she cocked her head, for it took all the concentration she had to discern his words as he called over his radio to McKay.

Something cold brushed against her hand, and she looked down to see bloodied fingertips falling away from hers. Sight and sound returned as the small trails of blood his fingers had left burned, and she caught his cold hand in hers, squeezing it as she looked down to his face. His green eyes were tilted up at hers, and the marring pain was gone. She could see Ronon again, and that made her smile. Her heart melted when he smiled back. Then his face shifted and his eyes closed as he coughed and she held her breath, for red stained his lips. "Ronon?"

He leaned forward slightly, his body suddenly taught as he coughed, attempting to curl up on his side but she and Sheppard tried to hold him in place. When he began to vomit she braced his back, keeping him on his side as blood spilled forth from his mouth. The grass was stained red. Blood. There was so much blood.

"Just hang in there, buddy," Sheppard whispered as he helped ease Ronon onto his back once more. "Help is on the way."

Ronon weakly nodded, his breathing labored and his eyes dangerously close to slipping shut. Teyla laid her hand against his jawbone, guiding his head so that he could look up at her, but his eyes were glassy, and she knew he no longer saw the world as she and Sheppard did. "Ronon, stay with us."

He was limp in her arms and breathing more slowly, as if he were drifting to sleep. His peace relieved her, for she knew he no longer suffered the agony of his injuries, and yet she knew that if he slept he would not wake. "Please, look at me, Ronon." Her fingers left smudges of blood as she cupped his head in her hands, bending over to look at his face upside-down, her hair falling forward to brush against ears, tickling his jaw line. He shuddered with a gag-like swallow and a momentary whimper, his eyes still distant from hers.

She knew there was nothing they could do to save him now. His body had given up, and he had already begun to leave. She rested her forehead against his, a sob escaping at the chill touch of his sickly skin against hers. Sheppard watched in helpless frustration, blinking repeatedly as own eyes misted, now pressing his jacket against the knife wound, as well. She sniffed loudly, her throat constricting in agony as she fought back the urge to bellow her anguish. She whispered his name as the tears fell and felt his breath tickle her bangs. She pulled away a bit to look at him and was stilled when she found him looking back, his wounded eyes focused on hers. His voice was barely above a whisper and blended with the breeze. "Don't cry."

Tears frustratingly blurred her vision at his words and she fiercely blinked them away. She tried to smile a little, unable to comply. "I cannot stop myself."

Sheppard lifted the cloth of his coat to look beneath, his voice mildly hopeful. "The bleeding's slowing."

Teyla leaned back on her haunches a bit more to see. She glanced at the blood-stained grass around them and locked eyes with Sheppard. Both knew it was because there wasn't much blood left to bleed.

The trees surrounding the glade rustled quietly, filling the moment of defeated human silence until it was broken by a warrior's weak voice. "Do you remember when it was just me, and it was just you?"

Teyla locked eyes with Ronon again, her heart writhing at the thought that she would never again be greeted by their jade. She nodded once with a wistful smile, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb, unable to breathe in the small space her pain and affection left to her - in the small space that would forever remember the way his eyes bore his unabashed heart as they did in this moment. She bent over and pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes, trying to memorize his scent and the touch of his skin against hers. She took his hand in hers, resting her forehead against his, her eyes still closed as a warm tear escaped. She opened them again and her spirit wilted at the beauty she felt from what she held in her hands, though it was fast slipping away. "It will always be that way," she whispered back.

He gave her hand an almost imperceptible squeeze and her eyes did not leave his, reveling in the moment, blossoming and withering inside. A whisper in his eyes told her that their hearts were breaking for each other, and she remembered his laughter in the meadow. After a few heartbeats, his body gave a small shudder, and she watched in breathless reverence as his body stilled, and the light in his eyes diminished.

She let herself howl then, for the pain was so great it was suffocatingly numbing. She leaned over the body, her frame wracked with weeping. She barely noticed Sheppard's arms close around her waist, hugging her to him as tears slipped down his cheeks. "He's gone, Teyla. He's gone."  
Time was lost to tears and heat as Teyla labored through sobs. Sheppard cradled her in his embrace, feeling each shuddering breath in her ribs beneath his fingers resting on her back. Both throats burned and throbbed, both chests harbored hidden weeping wounds, bleeding voids where another once dwelled.

There was thumping of feet and Doctors McKay and Carson broke through the trees, each out of breath and glisteningly red in the face. Carson slowed mid-stride as he surveyed the scene, then fell to his knees in the rust-colored grass. McKay stopped in his tracks, his head tilted to the side as his mouth grimaced open, wincing and turning away from the still form bathed in blood. "Oh God..." slipped out under his breath.

Carson felt for a pulse, closing his eyes and leaning back on his haunches when he felt none.

"We're too late." McKay's voice was barely audible as he took a few haunted steps forward, looking from the body to Sheppard who watched over Teyla's shoulder. Shock and unbelief pitched his voice. "We... we're too late."

"Aye, Rodney." Carson looked to him out of the corner of his eye before tenderly lifting Ronon's stained shirt to survey the wounds. "We're too late." He sighed, looking to the Satedan's peaceful face, his throat clenching at the finger-stains of blood on his cheeks. He cocked his head, his light eyes shining with helplessness and sorrow as he gently shut Ronon's still, half-lidded eyes. "Rest in peace, my friend."

Carson's quiet goodbye slowed Teyla's exhausted hiccoughing, reeling her back into her surroundings. She pulled away slightly to look to Sheppard's face. The thin lines of his visage seemed to be etched a little deeper as he locked eyes with her and gently smoothed the tear-clinging hair off her face. Taking a deep breath, she leaned against him in a hug, the gentle bump of his heart against her soothing, affirming that she still lived.

He kissed the top of her head and looked to the other two men. Carson was methodically stuffing the stained gauze into a plastic bag. McKay's frown had deepened and he waved his hand violently at the flies who had already arrived.

Teyla pulled away from Sheppard, wiping at the remaining moisture on her cheeks with a quiet sniffle. Bracing herself with a breath, she turned her gaze back to the body. "We should bring him home now."

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	7. VII High Up In The Trees

**_Author's Note:_** This is the second-to last chapter, and I hope you all enjoy! angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl4/Trees.html

**VII. High Up In The Trees **

She'd ignored Weir's gentle cautioning and cleaned the body alone. Her face was stony as she wiped at the dried blood. She hadn't even taken the time to change out of her dark-stained clothing, fiercely desiring a closure that a quiet place in her heart whispered would never come.

The voices of the others in the adjoining room brushed against the closed door every now and then. They were relating to Weir what had happened, and discussing where to lay the body to rest. Teyla clenched her jaw, dipping her cloth in the rusty water again and glancing to Ronon's face before wiping at his abdomen once more, irritated that someone like Elizabeth Weir, who could barely understand Ronon and the circumstances that made him who he was, would have any input on where he would wish to be buried. Weir didn't and couldn't understand him, and when her words "what about..." carried through the door, Teyla shot it an annoyed look. Her already-chilled insides gave a small writhe and she looked back to Ronon's stomach, realizing with some measure of surprise that she'd finished. But she didn't want to be finished.

She rested her hand on his hipbone as she looked to his face. He still looked so alive that she focused on him, willing his eyes to open and his chest to rise, the task seeming so insanely simple. Breathe, just breathe. That's all you had to do to live, just breathe. She had told him as much once before, when both thought they'd reached their days' end. Breathe, just breathe. Ronon's chest didn't move and with a gasp she filled her lungs with much-needed air.

She smiled wistfully then, tracing a finger down his cheekbone, as an amusing thought shook her out of her childish wishing.

_Even in death, you can make me hold my breath._

Her head tilting slightly, she looked to his face, smooth and serene. _Released_, she thought, and her chest tightened as she bit her lower lip in guilt. He felt peace in the arms of his people passed. A peace she knew they were nearing together before violence sundered them.

Throat throbbing, she caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers, finding solace in having, for a brief time, known his wild, wounded heart.

There was a gentle knock at the door and she yanked her hand away. "Come in."

Sheppard entered, looking from her to the body, then back down again as he quietly closed the door behind him. "Hey."

She gave him a small smile in response.

He stood next to her, his arms folded over his chest, looking at Ronon. "Almost seems like he's sleeping."

She gave the smallest nod, her voice a whisper. "Almost."

He waited a moment before speaking again. "We were just discussing-"

"I know."

He tried not to look at her, keeping his gaze on the body. "Elizabeth wanted to contact one of the Satedan survivors – see what their funeral rites are."

Teyla tried to fight off her extreme annoyance at his words.

"But I think I've got her convinced to leave the choice up to you." He gave her a meaningful lock of the eyes and she was surprised to be awash in relief.

She inclined her head. "Thank you, Colonel."

"Don't mention it."

She looked back to Ronon, trying to keep her eyes away from the ugly wounds that had stolen him. She knew exactly where to take him.

* * *

The meadow was warm and alive as it had been when she and Ronon had admired its beauty in a time that now seemed so distant. The small crowd departed the grave, only Sheppard lingering when he saw that Teyla did not move as she watched the butterflies that had once graced her arms. 

The spring ran at the bottom of the small hill she was standing upon, a few yards away. She thought she could see where he'd crouched by the water, and she traced her fingertips along her arm, remembering his touch. The thought suddenly made her sick.

"You okay?"

She looked to Sheppard, startled, her eyes unblinking. "I killed him."

He pulled his head back slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?"

"If I had only gotten there sooner. If I had not pulled that knife out-"

"Teyla." He stepped up to her and she took a step back.

"There was so much blood, and it would not stop. It just would not stop. It's my fault." The tears she'd kept at bay during the service were no surfacing.

"It's not your fault, Teyla. He was in agony – I saw it. You were helping him."

Her lower lip trembled. "If I had only waited, Dr. Carson could have – but he was screaming. I could not stand the screaming..."

"Teyla, it's okay." He lightly wrapped his arms around her and she tensed. "There was nthing anyone could-"

She yanked away, her eyes glossed with tears that fell at her movement. "I could have saved him, John! I could have-"

"You already were!"

She stilled, her breath shaky as she stared at him.

His expression relaxed a little and he lowered his voice. "You were saving him, Teyla."

She took a shaky breath as a gust of wind cooled her face. Sheppard stepped forward again, and this time she didn't resist his embrace as he whispered to her. "You were saving him." She rested her head on his shoulder, watching the grasses sway.

* * *

After that day, waking became difficult. She slept as much as she could, for when she slept she could forget, and on some blessed nights, she was with him again. For a few sacred heartbeats in the morning she would stir, and she would not remember. For a few seconds she was at peace before the crushing, cold weight settled in her chest, reminding her that she did not get to see his eyes that day. 

People began to avoid her and her own teammates only spoke to her when necessary. She knew why. She wanted to be alone. She had too quickly grown tired of her mask of calm. She'd had enough of hiding her heart.

She lay in her bed, running her fingers lazily along the empty sheets beside her, wishing her were there, just to touch him again. To feel his breath, to hear his heart beat. For long hours in the night she retraced their every footstep, searching to recall his every word, horrified that she might forget the way his eyes smiled, or how soothing his silence was. She missed his easy silence. She missed his silent guardian growl as he'd step up beside her when danger approached, and she smirked, remembering how she once found his protectiveness of her annoying.

_Where are you now, Ronon? Are you at peace?_

_

* * *

_

It was a month before she could look at the place again. Trying to loosen the knots in her throat at the sights, scents and sounds of the meadow, she plucked a few blossoms as she made her way up the small hill. Her stomach chilled at the sight of his grave, but her memory of his wonder at this place began to warm her, and she smiled, closing her eyes and drinking in the wildflowers and grasses on the breeze. 

She laid her small bouquet atop the young grass on his grave, trailing her fingers over the beads of the necklace they'd tied to the low-hanging oak bough above his grave, marking the site. She sat down on her hip, slipping her feet out of her sandals and dragging her toes through the tickling grass, reveling in the touch of life. She tugged the hem of her lavender dress so that the balls of her ankles rested comfortably on the soft fabric.

Pulling her hair away from her neck, she lay down, her left hand resting in the grass above the earthen tomb. She closed her eyes as Ronon had taught her to do, and bathed in the bird song, in the warmth of the sun, in the tickling of the grass and the scent of pine carried on a gently heated breeze. She lost track of time as she fell into the pulse of the land, losing herself in the life around her. She began to absently stroke the young grass beneath her fingertips, humming the tune of the lullaby she once sang to him as they sheltered in a cave.

The wind played with her bangs and she smiled, enjoying the tingling chill of her hair sliding against her bare back. She hadn't come here to be near Ronon's resting place, for she knew his body was long-bereft of himself. She had come here to hear the wind song, just as he said she always could. She had come here to hear him.

No matter the danger faced and the heroism shown, it was their quiet moments together in the wild that she would visit time and again. It was his quiet words to her that she held most sacred.

Somewhere in the branches above her, baby birds chirped in a chorus as one of their parents arrived to feed them. She opened her eyes at the birdsong, sitting up to gaze at the glade again.

Anything that welled up his memory was once a cause of pain for her, but now she could look beyond the sorrow, for he was there, and she felt everything that he had said with his shifting green, like a bittersweet kiss. She knew his silent ways, and she knew his eyes – she knew what he had been telling her all along, from his heart, and though he was no longer with her, she couldn't extinguish the fiery butterfly of her love for him. She sheltered his memory, and he was safe. None could harm him anymore.

He was in each new sunrise and with her every heartbeat in all her yesterdays. He was in the sound of laughter and the tickling inside of play. He was in the firelight and the untamed call of the night. She knew that once day she would see him again, and that for now she would feel him in their quiet places, where he had lived for so long, and gifted to her with the light of the stars.

She closed her eyes, and she sang. She sang for them.

"Time is a river that flows endlessly  
And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream

Shadows dance behind the firelight  
And all the spirits of the night remind us:  
We are not alone

Tomorrow: a sun soon rising  
And yesterday is there beside us  
And it's never far away

If you listen to the wind you can hear me again  
Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song  
High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves  
Listen to the wind, there's no end to my...

Love is forever a circle unbroken  
The seasons keep changing; it always remains

Spring will melt the snows of winter  
And the summer gives us days of light  
So long till autumn makes them fade

Remember the sound of laughter  
We ran together through the meadows  
Still we thought our hearts could break

If you listen to the wind, you can hear me again  
Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song  
High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves  
Listen to the wind and I'll send you my love

Listen to the wind where the sky meets the land  
I'm not really gone I've been here all along  
High up in the trees in the sound of the leaves  
Listen to the wind there's no end to my...

Time is a river that flows to the sea  
And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream."

The wooden beads of the necklace clanked together, blending with the sighing boughs, quiet and strong, like a warrior freed.

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	8. VIII Epilogue: Strong Wind

**_Author's Note:_ **Alas, we have come to the end! Thank you all so kindly for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed. You may also read this chapter at my site: angelfire. com/planet/blackhawkgirl4/Epilogue.html I have also added a page of songs that have helped inspire this story! May you all be well, and thank you again for reading!

**VIII. Epilogue: Strong Wind **

Teyla left Atlantis about a year after Ronon's death. It wasn't anything dramatic, it was just her time to go. And truth be told, she wasn't ever the same after he died.

She lived on the mainland with her people, and about three years down the line I leaned that she was engaged. I went to visit her soon after I heard the news. Her house was practical and uncluttered, almost bare, and she let in only enough light so that we could function.

She smiled as she handed me a cup of tea and asked how I was.

"Oh, you know, same old stuff. Saving the galaxy once a week."

She smiled at that, but I could tell it was forced.

"Well, what about you? I hear you're engaged?"

She looked away, as if I'd brought up something frivolous, then seemed to realize her reaction and looked to me with another forced smile. "Gavin."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. I'd forgotten how quiet she'd become. "He's got a nice name, I'll give him that much." I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to tease out the Teyla I knew and loved. "He's got excellent taste, too."

The smile was real this time and in the dim light I thought I saw her cheeks color a little. I shut up, waiting for her to speak further.

She rose and ladled us some soup. I thanked her and we ate in silence for a few minutes before the silence got to me and I couldn't help but smirk in memory of many similar moments I'd spent with Ronon. The silence never seemed to bother him, and my attempts at conversation were often met with the briefest answers possible. "So you two set a date yet?"

She was chewing on the inside of his lower lip, subconsciously thumbing her ring. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before looking to me and I knew I'd stepped into something sticky. She spoke as if she chose her words carefully, justifying her view. "Gavin is... a very kind man." She fed me a practiced line with practiced happiness. "I am very lucky to have him."

I arched a brow. "But...?"

She shrugged a little, leaning back in her chair, looking out the window at the people milling by on the street, but I could tell by the way her face was turned that her gaze was on the distant mountains. When she looked back to me, something had shifted in her eyes and she looked older. She'd shed her mask and now looked to me as the old friend I was, her voice deepening into a confiding tone. "Try as I might, I cannot set a date."

"Has he been pressuring you to?"

She shook her head immediately, wrapping her hands around her cup of tea. "No, however we have been engaged for almost a year." She looked up from her tea. "Most Athosians wed within the first few months of engagement."

I nodded, understanding, for I'd never been in a relationship where I'd considered marriage. I decided to be bold. "Do you love the guy?"

She blinked in surprise, cocking her head a little. "Of course."

"Then what's the problem?"

She looked out the window to the mountains again, her hands still cupping her mug. A child laughed out on the street and a gust of wind fluttered the violet curtains, rattling the vase dried wildflowers on the windowsill. "It is just that..." she trailed off, her eyes unmoving.

"...He's not Ronon," I finished for her. She tore her gaze from the distant wilds and the aged, somber brown of her eyes that met mine made me still. I'd taken a risk by mentioning him, but the chiseled truth in her gaze told me that I'd never been more right. The wind tossed a bit of her hair over her shoulder and she glanced down to where the lock came to rest against her left breast, above her heart. Her answer was quiet, almost whispered. "No, he is not."

I drew a deep breath and she slowly locked eyes with me again, reading my empathy. "Yeah." I sighed. "I miss him, too."

She nodded lethargically, her gaze glassy as she drifted somewhere distant. I knew she missed him more than I did – more than I ever could. He was more than just a comrade to her. They had a bond I always struggled to understand, and always failed to. But I knew from the moment she looked at me, helpless and lost as he lay dying, that she loved him. And I knew now as she looked back to the mountains in the distance, her eyes lingering on the wildflowers for a heartbeat, that he would forever be to hear what a dream is to the dreamer. She would always wonder what could have been, and she would always treasure what they knew, what they had together.

He was a strong wing that could never be harnessed, and you never knew where it would blow from next. Hell, even she didn't know, but that added to his mystique. That kept him unobtainable, like the myth from which he arose. He was a Runner, swift and sure, and the wind was ever at his back. I just never paused to notice how gently he blew for her, and how she could change the course of his torrent without a whisper.

An I knew the wind was at his back now, wherever he may be, roaming the ranges and haunting the hills as he once did, untamed, but this time he wasn't hunted; he was free.

He'd forever be a ghost in her heart, our Strong Wind. He'd forever be the cry of the wolf, haunting the wilderness of the land and the heart alike. He'd forever be her wild frontier.

A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, disappearing into the shadows of the dim light.

I sighed, wishing I had the grace with words that she did, and the wisdom to go with it. "I can't tell you what to do, Teyla."

She wiped at her cheekbone when another tear escaped.

"But I know he'd want you to be happy... whatever you decide."

I rose and crossed to her and she stood, falling into my arms with a hushed sob and a whispered "I know."

As I held her, I realized that I was probably the only one who could ever understand, for I was the only one who ever knew them both well-enough to have glimpsed what they'd shared.

I didn't offer her any more advice, for I had no more to give. The choice was hers and hers alone. As I left I promised that I'd always be here if she needed to talk and she gave me a grateful smile and a thank-you.

I don't know what she decided, but the last time I saw her was as I began to close her door that day as the sun set. She stood still as a statue, a gust of wind playing with her hair, her gaze on the beckoning wilds, just out of reach.

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